


hi

by rapweezer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Meet-Cute, dumb laundry room happenings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 07:53:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13922694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rapweezer/pseuds/rapweezer
Summary: Zayn misplaces his phone and it attaches itself to a cute boy.





	hi

“Ready to go?”

“One sec.”

Louis’s caught up in some dog rescue programme on Channel 4 while Zayn stands at the kitchen entrance like a lemon, laundry bag weighing more than him and his Vans uncomfortable on his feet from the lack of socks.

“Louis!”

“Okay, alright!” he snips, picking up his two Sports Direct bags. “Harry, text me if the brown Spaniel gets adopted.”

Harry waves yes in acknowledgment.

Zayn rolls his eyes. He longs for a nice hot shower and his bed, but he’s also on his last pair of underwear, and he’s not at home where the washing machine is literally downstairs in the kitchen, he’s at uni where it’s at the other end of the accommodation. So, fuck.

Louis manages to swing the door open with his foot and get them out onto the courtyard where it’s freezing and threatening to rain.

Zayn lets out a whine of protest.

“Agree,” Louis says. “Do you think if we inquire about upping our rent we could get a maid to do our laundry?”

“All kinds of ethical, classist issues there, Lou.”

“True. But imagine how much time is taken from us, doing laundry, that could be spent on actual work towards our degree?”

“Well, since we always seemingly need to do laundry on Friday nights and that’s when we all watch Gogglebox and arse around, I can’t imagine it’s denting our chances at studying.”

Louis sighs dramatically at the sky. “Whatever. I’ll make us an amaretto hot chocolate when we get in.”

“Ooh.”

-

The laundrette is pretty much empty save for the two machines going, thankfully, so Zayn doesn’t have to be cautious of dropping a pink sock and being embarrassed about it.

Him and Lou grab the two machines next to each other and unload their clothes messily, knowing his favourite shirt will get wrapped up in his bed covers anyway. No point going for neatness here.

His phone slips out of his pocket and hits the tiles and he curses, picking it up and throwing it onto the couch by the window for now.

“Shit,” Louis says, “I forgot wash powder.”

“I’ve got tablets,” Zayn reassures, handing him a couple.

“Thanks babe. Incredibly thankful no one’s here to witness my sexy underwear enter dutty student accommodation washing machines.”

Zayn laughs, rolling his eyes, “You’re too kinky for the innocent first years to see. Did you like, get those from Ann Summers?”

Louis gives him a smoulder. “Honey, you wish I’d shop at Ann Summers.”

“Wouldn’t want to bring someone back for a nice innocent cuppa and have them find your thong between the couch cushions.”

“Excuse me,” Louis gasps, “I’m sensible and classy.”

“You’ve described to us all in detail your kitchen sexcapades,” Zayn reminds him, “We all know it’s bound to happen here. And we don’t support it, by the way.”

“The breakfast bar might just be a bit too high for me,” Louis considers.

They both scan their cards and start their washes at the same time so neither are waiting any longer when they both come down again.

Louis takes the lint filter out of the dryer and bangs it against the fucking metal dustbin to clean it.

“You could take that off with your hands,” Zayn grits, ears ringing.

“Gross, I’m not touching other peoples’ clothes dust.”

“You’re a diva,” Zayn concludes, and Louis shrugs.

They make their way back with their bags and out into the cold air again. “Jesus, my nipples were out the door before I was,” Louis hisses.

Zayn snorts. He wouldn’t tell the others, but Louis is his favourite to have banter with. The things he comes out with tickle Zayn.

Like, Zayn’s not trying to pick favourites. They’re all actually really good friends now, grouped together at the start of Uni coincidentally and inseparable now. He can see them living together for the remaining two years, too, and he’s completely happy with two loud irritants, and darling Harry.

-

The warmth of their flat that hits Zayn’s face when they walk back through is biblical.

He kicks off his shoes and joins the others in the living room for their usual chilled Friday night. Harry is up at the breakfast bar in Flat Mom mode, icing his vegan chocolate cupcakes that always go down a treat while Louis makes the drinks.

Niall’s over on one of the couches, wrapped in a blanket scrolling through his phone.

Zayn suddenly feels his heart drop out of his ass.

“Shit, Louis!”

Louis almost burns his hand. “Woah, what?”

“My fucking phone!”

Zayn’s slipping on his shoes and flying out the door before he can get a response. They’re not even properly on his feet yet he’s bolting across the courtyard where most of the bedrooms face out, so there’s bound to be people watching him act a fool.

He doesn’t care, just bolts down the stairs and through the doors of the laundry room and damn near has a panic attack.

There’s a guy sat on the couch, looking at Zayn with wide eyes, and Zayn knows he looks a sweaty, panicky mess right now, because that’s exactly what he is.

The guy holds up Zayn’s phone. “Yours?”

“Shit,” Zayn breathes, dragging a hand over his damp forehead. “Fuck. Yes, that’s mine. Jesus.”

The guy looks visibly concerned for him, all wide eyes and slack mouth, and that amps Zayn’s anxiety up even more.

Zayn grabs the phone from his waiting hand and falls back on the couch, exhausted. “Thank God,” he says, “Sorry, thank _you_.”

The guy smiles to himself. It’s a tragedy of a situation, actually. Zayn’s positive he’s popped a lung, he can feel sweat running into his eyebrows, and this guy who protected Zayn’s beloved phone is completely gorgeous.

“I came in here to get my clothes and it was just lying there,” he says, and Zayn notes the thick brummie accent, a little down south but not too much for Zayn to be wary. “Thought I might as well stay with it since the person who left it wouldn’t have taken long to realise.” He gives Zayn a look. “Don’t worry, I didn’t, like, look at it or anything. But, yeah. Good decision.”

“Good decision,” Zayn repeats. He’s still wrapping his head around it. Someone could have taken his phone, it’s not irrational to think that, but Zayn has his phone and a prince charming. A knight in silver armour. Whatever. “Thank you.”

“I’m Liam,” he offers, “I live here. Well, obviously.”

“Zayn,” he grins. “And that’s good. My stupidity would have costed me my phone otherwise.”

Right, he’s going to stop himself right here. Zayn can’t flirt. Not when he needs a shower and a ten-minute rest to regain composure.

Liam, though, he looks like this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to him all week. He’s gorgeous, too, if Zayn hadn’t mentioned that to himself already. So pretty. The pink mouth and pretty teeth, brown eyes. He’s wearing grey sweats, too, which do a lot for Zayn.

“So, Liam…?”

“Payne,” he beams.

Zayn hits the text into his Facebook search bar (Instagram, too, but secretly), finds Liam Payne and hits ‘add friend’.

“Lovely,” Zayn says. “And thank you, again.”

Zayn stands to leave, and Liam does too, washing clearly packed and ready.

So they’re walking back together.

“I’m in block two,” Zayn mentions, falling into step with Liam. They’re the same height, it’s just Liam’s a little bulkier.

“Five for me,” Liam says.

They walk in silence from there. It’s not comfortable, either, because Zayn finds him attractive and can never calm himself when he comes across these fairytale boys who know how they look. Except Liam comes across as shy, more than anything.

“This is me,” Zayn says when they get to his block. Liam’s is actually right across from his.

“So I’ll see you around?” Liam says. Zayn hopes it was meant to sound as enthusiastic as it did.

“Definitely,” Zayn smiles.

-

“Jesus,” Louis hollers before he can even get a foot in the door, “Where the fuck did you end up, the security reception? Was going to text you but remembered, uh, duh.”

“Someone guy genuinely stayed with it until I got there and now we’re Facebook friends.”

“Is he fit?” Harry asks.

“Obviously,” Louis confirms, nodding towards Zayn. “Look at him, cat that got the cream. Unbelievable.”

Zayn grins sweetly at him. “Thanks for making sure I forgot my phone.”

He parks himself comfortably between Harry and Louis on the couch and opens up Liam’s profile, smiling at the notification of him accepting the request.

“Oh, I know him!” Harry says, neck craning so he can look at Zayn’s phone. “That’s hot Liam from my course.”

“You know him?” Zayn asks.

“Not really. I see him around. He’s like, unreal, though. You’re also unreal. Message him!”

“Does he like dick?” Louis asks.

Zayn wants to know how Niall manages to innocently tune this all out and focus on the TV. It’s remarkable.

“I mean, I could definitely find out,” Zayn offers.

“When you sext all you’ll be able to picture is that stuffy laundry room.”

“Thanks, Lou.”

Zayn opens up Messenger, types out _do you always find phones and wait in the exact spot you found it until its owner collects it_

Liam opens the message as soon as Zayn’s sent it.

_Only if the owner is incredibly cute and grateful. Bingo._

Zayn beams at his phone screen.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading <3 just stretching my uni au muscles.


End file.
